


like a knife that loves skin

by 64907



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Retirement, Suburbia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64907/pseuds/64907
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jun had had a routine that lasted for exactly three years.</p><p>A John Wick AU with Jun as a retired hitman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a knife that loves skin

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my two awesome betas who polished this thing. ♥ The line in the letter is from The Civil Wars' Disarm. This is also posted on [Livejournal](http://64907.livejournal.com/17970.html).

Sitting on his bathroom floor and thumbing at his bleeding lip, Jun leans back, nape resting against the cool porcelain of his bathtub. He hears nothing but the constant drop of water from the sink and he notes that there is a five-second interval between each.  
  
“Sho-san sends his regards,” was what Nino told him. The last time Jun had seen Nino’s impish face and self-satisfied grin was when Jun shot him under the ribs. Maybe he should’ve let Nino die then; he hated seeing Nino so proud of himself.  
  
Jun licks his lips and they taste of metal. He’s positive his teeth are stained red by his blood; the three burly men Nino brought along did the job good enough. Sho wanted to taunt him, for him to feel like he had been played with just like all those years ago, and here he is, sitting in the dark so as not to see blood on his person.  
  
It’s been too long since he’d bled.  
  
\--  
  
Jun had had a routine that lasted for exactly three years. In the morning he made himself miso soup and read the newspaper. If he wasn’t awake enough, he resolved to do crunches on his living room floor. He read somewhere that exercise triggers the release of endorphins — chemical substances that can help him wake up faster. After the exercise, he watered the plants on his veranda to calm his heartbeat.  
  
When he ran out of things to do, he drove around, spending time in parks, in populated places.  
  
All of these combined, they kept him busy.  
  
He has become friends with the mechanic some streets away from his home and pays the man a visit from time to time. Aiba-san always welcomes him with a smile, always offering a free tune-up despite his boss insisting that nothing goes for free.  
  
Jun agrees with that.  
  
He just didn’t believe that Sho wouldn’t keep his word.  
  
\--  
  
He comes home one night after drinking with Toma, his gym buddy. They became friends after Toma had invited him for a jog which turned to a habit, since it gives him an excuse to study the neighborhood even when he has every corner and every block memorized.  
  
Still smelling like smoke and with his shirt stained with beer, he enters his house and notices that something’s off.  
  
Turning on the lights, Jun finds that all of his shoes are aligned as neatly as he left them. His stack of cooking magazines and their dog-eared pages haven’t been disturbed, his curtains still drawn from this morning. His living room is spotless and the TV is off, and in the deafening silence, he can almost hear the bathroom sink and its occasional water droplets.  
  
He always forgets to call for a plumber.  
  
Toeing off his shoes, he’s about to slip one foot into his house slipper when he finds it: a crisp, white, almost pristine envelope, placed underneath the right slipper.  
  
Jun almost laughs when he sees the curly black font addressing him. Sho always liked to be formal, preferring to use keigo even if he can be casual. Wasn’t raised that way, Sho always said.  
  
Jun prepares and finishes his dinner before opening it. He uses a letter opener, Sho’s voice saying, “Manners make the man, Matsumoto-kun,” ringing in his head over and over. He can almost hear Sho as he reads the words. He doesn’t even blink at what it says, instead dropping the sheet of paper unceremoniously on his dining table as soon as he finished reading the content.  
  
_I send a smile over to you._  
  
That night, Jun doesn’t sleep and just watches the headlights from the cars passing by color his ceiling. It has been three years since he lay his head down in a fluffy pillow that has a gun tucked under it, but he should have known.  
  
Sho isn’t his father despite looking almost like him. Jun should have known that Sho wouldn’t let him go for too long, wouldn’t let him stray too far.  
  
The digital clock on his bedside table clicks, and when he glances at it, it says 6:37 AM.  
  
\--  
  
For weeks, nothing happens. Jun continues with the life he has known ever since he turned his back on everything he once knew. He wants to make the most out of it, knowing that his days are numbered. From time to time he feels someone looking at him, and he resists the urge to get his gun and aim for a good shot.  
  
Is he still good, after a few years of silence?  
  
When Nino arrives with three people in tow a couple of weeks after the envelope, Nino asks him the same question. There’s a plastic bag over his head and he can feel Nino’s little hands on his spread thighs, can smell Nino’s breath reeking of smoke as Nino leans in his space.  
  
“Three long years since I last saw you, J,” Nino rasps, using that affectionate nickname with distaste. “Are you still as good as you used to be or are you now a legend, ready to be absorbed into whatever suburban bullshit you think you’re so good at living?”  
  
Jun can’t speak because one of Nino’s guys has wrapped one of his ties around his neck, pulling it back just to remind Jun that they have him, that they’re holding him down. His gun is somewhere under the bed after sliding across the smooth tiles when one of the three goons kicked him in the gut.  
  
He huffs, trying to keep his cool and not waste his air. Nino is yet to remove the bag and Jun doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of squirming under the bonds, doesn’t want Nino to see his eyes reddening and his body rebelling due to hypoxia.  
  
Nino laughs and it’s a sound Jun last heard when Sho’s father sent him to Moscow. “Sho-san sends his regards,” Nino spits, wrapping a hand around Jun’s throat. Jun wishes he’d killed Nino, and perhaps his entire body language screams for it, that desire to hurt after he’s been hurt because Nino laughs again.  
  
“Oh I’ve missed you,” Nino whispers, each syllable laced with fondness. Despite the darkness, Jun can make out the scar he put on Nino’s forehead when they were still young. “We all did. It’s precisely why he sent you that letter.”  
  
Then Nino grabs both of his shoulders and knees him in the gut, just as the guy holding Jun lets go. Jun drops to the floor, gasping for breath. When Nino finally pulls the bag off his head, he spits a mouthful of blood onto Nino’s perfectly shined leather shoes.  
  
Nino chuckles and Jun receives a kick in the face.  
  
\--  
  
The following morning, he crawls to retrieve his gun, finding that all the bullets are still inside. He has a few broken ribs and a bruised stomach, but while he’s slightly limping, Nino and his men didn’t really harm him. Jun would know. Nino was Sho’s favorite after him. Sho’s favorites consisted of men who are good at following orders.  
  
Jun was the only black sheep in the bunch, bailing out before Sho finally had the throne. He supposes that’s exactly what made him Sho’s favorite out of them all, the only one to get such special treatment after all these years. He never really got to follow any orders from Sho.  
  
He goes down to his basement and flicks the switch, blinking at the dust motes floating in the air as he carefully descends the stairs. There’s a toolbox and an unfinished cart at the center of the flooring and Jun pushes them aside before retrieving a mallet.  
  
It hurts when he tries to lift his arms, but he barrels through the pain. Three long years. This is nothing, he thinks as he brings down the mallet to the concrete, shattering it in pieces. Nothing, nothing, nothing, he repeats with each swing, until he’s surrounded by puffs of gravel and the metal box in question appears.  
  
He winces when he crouches down, pain flaring at his side, but he opens the lid with steady fingers, as if his hands rested for too long and now feel like they’ve been woken, been summoned.  
  
Nothing, he thinks one last time as he runs his fingers over each gun, each knife he has procured over the years. Some were gifts. Most were souvenirs from his jobs.  
  
This is not nothing, he realizes as he picks up one handgun and cocks it. Before he can think on it, he aims at the wall to his right and pulls the trigger, imagining Sho’s face.  
  
\--  
  
Jun does nothing.  
  
He knows that Sho expects otherwise. After Nino, Sho expects him to move, to search, to make Sho pay. But he does none of those and only keeps his weapons close. He starts keeping them in places only he will find, in case he has visitors: inside the magazine rack, one under his living room table, another kept in his toilet tank.  
  
There’s a knife strapped to his leg and a gun shoved inside his jacket every time he leaves home, but that’s all he does. He prepares for what’s to come because knowing Sho, once he realizes that his taunts didn’t work, he will aim higher.  
  
Ambitious and ruthless, just like his father.  
  
Almost a month after Nino, when the dried blood from Jun’s living room tiles have already faded, he comes home to firemen outside his place. His kind neighbor, Akiyama-san, reported a fire due to a possible gas leak and when she sees Jun, she immediately asks if he forgot to turn off his stove before he left home.  
  
Jun uses an electrical stove but he doesn’t say a word. He inclines his head in thanks and waits until the fire is put out.  
  
His kitchen and living room are singed, but the rest of his home remain intact. “You are lucky,” the firemen tell him over and over again and he nods back, repeating the words inside his head.  
  
Lucky, lucky, lucky.  
  
Back when he was still an amateur, every time he’d had a good shot, Sho called it a lucky hit. “It won’t save your life, Matsumoto-kun. But it ends the game with you winning,” he said every time Jun hit the mark. Sho never acknowledged his skill, but with all these theatrics, these ploys to get Jun’s attention, Jun believes Sho finally had. It had only taken him three years.  
  
He manages to salvage a couple of cooking magazines. The gun he has in the magazine rack and under the living room table are both gone, and when he checks, the one he’d chucked inside the toilet tank is also missing.  
  
There’s another envelope but it was placed under his pillow this time, just right beside the gun he stashed there so he’d sleep better. When Jun checks, the gun is lighter; all bullets had been taken out.  
  
He doesn’t bother to open the envelope and instead searches for a lighter and watches in satisfaction as he burns the letter in his bathroom sink. He keeps watching until the words _Matsumoto-sama_ disappear into ashes, and when it’s done, he grabs a duffel bag and leaves for a nearby hotel.  
  
\--  
  
Toma chides him for threatening to burn the entire neighborhood down, but Jun only smiles, keeping it sheepish and innocent. He still has a burnt kitchen and an equally burnt living room, but he already made calls to have his walls patched up. He needs a new TV set but he thinks it can wait.  
  
A new paint is all it takes to cover the marks left by the fire. He chooses a cream-colored wallpaper this time, something a little more refreshing than his old walls. This coming Sunday, there will be men who will help Jun put them up, to make his place habitable and presentable again.  
  
The guy Sho sent to tail him is doing a good job and Jun chooses to keep pretending he doesn’t know he’s being followed. It’s been going for three and a half months now, this game Sho started, and sometimes Jun itches to pull his gun out and send Sho a message.  
  
In the end he doesn’t, remembering the past three years. He doesn’t look back any further than that.  
  
\--  
  
It’s Sunday night, almost Monday morning, when Jun makes a call.  
  
Ohno picks up after three rings, as is customary. “Hello, Jun. It’s been a while,” is the greeting Jun receives immediately after he said, “It’s me.”  
  
Ohno is down to business immediately, something Jun always liked about him. “How many?”  
  
Sho had sent fifteen men to kill him and Jun’s honestly flattered, but he has his newly fixed walls to worry about. There is brain tissue splattered on his living room walls, streaks of blood marring his floors. His couch is full of holes and most of his furniture are damaged.  
  
He gives Ohno the number along with his address and Ohno promises to arrive in twenty minutes. Jun resolves to sit in his genkan as he waits, fiddling with his handgun and ignoring how sticky his face feels. Behind him lie fifteen bodies in varying states of slaughter, and when he moistens his lips, he tastes iron at the corner of his mouth.  
  
The doorbell rings and Jun opens it without checking through the peephole. Ohno greets him with a genial smile that takes Jun years back, as if he’s still a twenty-something desperate to prove his worth.  
  
Ohno steps aside to let his men in and Jun allows them to cleanup. Belatedly, he remembers his manners and deliberately ignores Sho’s voice ringing in his head. He offers Ohno chamomile tea and they drink it together as they watch Ohno’s men work efficiently, patching up floors and scrubbing walls in record time.  
  
It takes forty-five minutes, but when Ohno’s men move to leave, Jun’s place is as good as new excluding the interior.  
  
“Sorry about the furniture,” Ohno murmurs as they stand outside. Together they watch as the last of the bodies get loaded in the truck. “Looked expensive.”  
  
Jun waves it off. Furniture he’d hand-picked with care, now gone. First his kitchen and his living room, now his entire house. The blood and the bullet marks may be gone from his floor and his walls, but once he steps inside, he’ll knows he’ll see the work of Sho’s hands everywhere.  
  
Sho never really intended to have him killed, Jun knows. If Sho had wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have sent fifteen men. He wouldn’t have sent people at all and would have done the job himself because he’s that kind of person. He’s the picture perfect asshole fit to rule, to oversee the legacy his father left him.  
  
Sho only wanted to destroy whatever Jun built in the last three years. “Suburban bullshit,” according to Nino. Maybe he and Sho share the same opinion regarding that.  
  
“Thank you for the tea,” Ohno says with a polite bow as the truck starts up. “It’s good to see you back, Jun.”  
  
It’s really not like that, Jun wants to say, but what he ends up saying is simply “Satoshi.”  
  
Ohno takes his leave, and when Jun returns inside, he picks up the phone and dials to make a reservation.  
  
\--  
  
Jun goes for a long drive. He hasn’t been to Asterisk since before he left for Moscow, but Kiko-chan at the concierge desk recognizes him. She beams when Jun approaches, already sliding a keycard without any prompting.  
  
Jun places a stack of five gold coins on the polished oak, and Kiko only grins wider. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks, and Jun’s filled with momentary nostalgia. He used to drink whiskey before a job, asking for the management to keep his room stocked.  
  
He shakes his head. He watches for any change in Kiko’s demeanor but she doesn’t seem surprised. She simply nods, asking once more if he needs anything, and Jun dismisses her concerns before heading for his room.  
  
In the elevator, he smiles when the guy Sho sent to tail him follows him in. Jun briefly considers breaking the ice and admitting that he has always known, but he decides against it. He’s certain his present whereabouts will be reported to Sho anyway. He can almost imagine the smirk Sho will make once he hears the news.  
  
Night arrives and Jun goes down to the bar, finding the right people to talk to. He sees Kou sitting in one booth in the corner and he slides into the seat in front of her, watching how both of her eyebrows lift minutely in surprise.  
  
“What brings you here?” she asks. She’s drinking gin, a Bombay now that Jun’s looking at it, and she grins. She inclines her head in an offer to order the same for him and he accepts.  
  
Jun doesn’t speak until his drink arrives. “I need information.”  
  
Kou laughs. “Everybody needs information.” Jun catches her nodding to someone behind him, and when he turns, he sees the guy tailing him walking away.  
  
“He’s out of a job now,” Kou informs him. At the sight of Jun’s frown, she explains, “His job was to follow you to Asterisk.”  
  
“You’ve been in contact with Sho?” Jun asks before he can help it. He doesn’t miss Kou’s smile at his use of Sho’s name.  
  
The rim of Kou’s glass is stained red with her lipstick and Jun watches her wipe the smear away with her thumb. “I know what everyone does in this building.”  
  
Jun doubts that. She looked surprised when he arrived. She seems to sense his line of thinking because she raises her glass in a toast towards him. “I didn’t think you’d really come. Three years, Matsumoto. Of course I’m as shocked as everyone else. I’ve heard that you were walking a dog every Saturday at a nearby park.”  
  
Jun never had a dog, but he didn’t come here to detail every inch of his then-peaceful life. “Where is he?” he asks, watching with slightly narrowed eyes as Kou smiles. She never changed along with Asterisk and Jun wonders if the same can be said for him. He’s here now. Does that make him similar?  
  
“I’ve missed your scowl,” Kou says later, when Jun already has what he needs from her. Jun can’t return the sentiments. He’s surrounded by everything he wanted to run away from. Kou seems to understand, because when Jun is safely back inside his room, he gets a bottle of The Balvenie as part of room service.  
  
_Complements of the Asterisk_ , the card says. Jun briefly stares at the handwritten K. at the bottom of the card before getting ready for bed.  
  
\--  
  
He dresses himself and keeps his shoes shiny. He uses the same tie Nino’s goon wrapped around his throat some months ago, straightening it so Sho can’t say anything about it.  
  
Manners make the man, Jun, he tells his own reflection for one last time before leaving. There’s a gun tucked inside his coat pocket despite knowing he has no need for it.  
  
Jun finds Sho with a lovely woman at the rooftop restaurant of The Celestial, the one hotel in the city that befits the life Sho has been born into. Sho notices him the moment he steps through the sliding doors and it only takes a few minutes before Sho’s kissing the woman’s knuckles and bidding her goodbye.  
  
As soon as one of Sho’s men escorts her out, Jun approaches. He doesn’t take a seat, instead opting to place a hand at the back of the chair.  
  
“She’s beautiful,” he says honestly, and Sho smiles. Something inside Jun twinges at the sight. It’s been too long.  
  
“Her name is Satomi,” Sho supplies. He inclines his head towards Jun as a gesture for Jun to sit, but Jun refuses, keeping his stare cold even if Sho’s gaze is filled with warmth. “I promised to call her.”  
  
Jun’s starting to attract attention and he can sense it so he slides down and takes a seat, willfully ignoring Sho’s growing smile. “I’m flattered. Cancelling your dates must be a real hardship for you.”  
  
“I would ask how you found me, but you’ve always been resourceful,” Sho says instead. He still chooses to use keigo even here when he could be as casual as Jun. Jun’s fingers itch for his gun. “What took you so long, Matsumoto-kun?”  
  
Jun wants to wipe off the self-satisfied smirk on Sho’s face. It reminds him of Nino’s. “I never gave you permission to pry into my life.”  
  
Sho purses his lips, looking guilty but definitely not meaning it. “I haven’t seen you in three years. No note, no call, not even a bottle of wine or a bouquet of flowers. I’ve missed you. Surely Nino said as much?”  
  
Jun places his elbow on the table and leans forward. “Some kind of message you sent. You had Nino threaten me, you burned my kitchen and my living room, had me tailed, and sent fifteen guys to kill me.”  
  
“Oh Matsumoto-kun,” Sho begins, eyes full of amusement, “I sent you a letter but you never wrote back. I was thinking you didn’t receive it so I had Nino check. And still, not a word from you. But you ought to know that I have never wanted to have you killed. Not truly.”  
  
Jun knew, but he won’t give Sho the satisfaction of admitting that he understands how Sho’s mind ticks. That would imply that nothing has changed between them. He reaches across the table to grasp Sho’s wrist, delighting in the way Sho tenses in his grip and how his eyes turn dark.  
  
In public, Sho’s respectable, kind, always someone with a smile. He’s accommodating and charming and friendly, but that’s not the Sho Jun came for. Jun wanted the real one, the twisted manipulator underneath the saintly exterior. “You still had me tailed.”  
  
Sho extracts his hand away, but Jun catches how his eyes changed. All the rage, pride, and ambition Jun has associated with Sho since he was eleven, it’s all there. They’re just well-hidden and suppressed, but Jun wouldn’t be Jun if he couldn’t make Sho expose a sliver of that with one touch alone.  
  
“I was wondering what you were up to.”  
  
“How did you convince that guy to take the job?”  
  
When Sho’s smiles, it’s far from friendly, but not obvious to most people. Jun only notices the difference because the next time Sho speaks, his voice is deeper, his words are spoken more slowly for emphasis. “Nino did. No one else would. They were all terrified of what you would do.”  
  
Pride swells inside Jun. “Perhaps they all ought to be,” he says, switching to keigo to match Sho’s politeness. Manners, he repeats in his head, smiling when Sho catches on to the change.  
  
A waiter approaches to pour them wine and Jun waits until he has sampled whatever fancy beverage Sho picked for tonight. “I didn’t even know you’re the one on the throne,” he says, licking his lips to savor the fruity taste. A little too sweet for his liking, but definitely perfect for Sho.  
  
“My father retired,” Sho explains, “and he handed down everything to me. I have everything he used to have, all the assets he acquired in all those years.”  
  
“But you’re not contented,” Jun says. Sho wouldn’t be Sho if he were. He has always aimed higher, believing he can get whatever he wants if he puts his mind to it.  
  
“No,” Sho acknowledges, looking at Jun with his wine glass still at his lips. “I have everything he had, but not everything I want.”  
  
Ah, Jun realizes, meeting Sho’s intense gaze. He understands now.  
  
Sho doesn’t have him.  
  
\--  
  
Sho has a penthouse suite in The Celestial because he is what Jun remembers him to be. Three years did nothing to him aside from making his face look more deceiving. This Sho is softer on the edges, his round face and crinkly eyes sufficient at hiding whatever malicious deed he plots in his crafty mind.  
  
“Your father agreed to give me an out after the Moscow job,” Jun says as a reminder. Sho offers him a drink from his personal bar but Jun refuses, not wanting to owe Sho anything. He barely touched tonight’s dinner.  
  
Sho hums in acknowledgement, a glass of brandy in his ringed hand. He never wore rings in the time Jun knew him but this one has the family crest that signifies his status, reminds people of who he is. “And then he went into retirement. Imagine how I felt, realizing that he let you go only to step down. His best hitman, now out of reach. You were a valuable resource, Matsumoto-kun. My father was a fool for making that deal.”  
  
“I wanted that deal,” Jun insists, voice stern. “It was the best deal your family has ever given me.”  
  
Sho’s eyebrow shoots up. “You speak as if we never shared a home.”  
  
Jun shuts his eyes. Nostalgia surges through him, memories of his youth overlapping with Sho’s, how they practically grew up side-by-side. Jun had been an orphan and Sho’s father found him trying to pickpocket people in the train station. Instead of handing him to the authorities, Sakurai Shun brought him home.  
  
Now that Jun looks back, going to a government institution for the homeless would have been far more preferable. He didn’t choose this life; Sho’s father did it for him. The first time he was taught how to hold a gun, he did it with Sho watching by his side.  
  
“You have to learn how to protect him,” they always told him. Sho was the golden son, the heir, the future king who required all protection until his father deemed him fit to take over. For years, that mindset worked on Jun. He would improve his grip and his aim, relying on his senses for accuracy, remembering the consequences should he fail.  
  
“Never miss,” they always said. “Never, ever miss. If you do, make sure you don’t do it again.” These are words Jun has known by heart and they came with a specific skill set. He would kill a man without batting an eyelid just because Sho’s father asked. He would settle an old score without experiencing trouble sleeping just for Sho’s family to maintain their image.  
  
He served Sho’s father dutifully and efficiently, and when he finally decided on a clean slate, the old man didn’t hold it against him. Jun’s final job in Russia was his ticket out, away from the assassinations, the money, the schemes, the greed, Sho.  
  
Sho, who grew up alongside him, and was pampered while Jun was taught how to be tough. Jun can still recall how Sho’s eyes widened when Jun first shoved a gun in his hands. “You have to learn how to protect yourself,” he told Sho back then, using the same tone his instructors did.  
  
“Why should I when you’re there to do that?” Sho asked him, and Jun hates how he remembers the feeling, that tiny flutter in his heart at the indication of how much Sho trusted him.  
  
“I won’t always be around,” was what he said that day.  
  
He opens his eyes, coming back to his senses. Now they’re here, and Sho wants him back.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” Sho says again, as if Jun didn’t hear him the first time in the restaurant.  
  
Jun exhales, knowing that Sho’s watching his every move. “What exactly are you offering?”  
  
“A job. Anything you want to do, you can do. Provided, of course, that you also do anything I ask for. Work for me as you did for my father. You’ve done so much for him and I would like to ask you to do the same.”  
  
Jun turns his head, meeting Sho’s eyes. “You burned my kitchen for that? That’s not all of it.” He stalks towards Sho, crowding him in the bar. To Sho’s credit, he doesn’t flinch nor appear intimidated. “If you’re offering me the same job I used to have when I was under your father’s wing, forget it.”  
  
The corner of Sho’s lips quirks up. “I haven’t finished yet. I said I’ll let you do anything you want. That means anything, Matsumoto-kun. Anything.”  
  
Jun doesn’t miss the implication of Sho’s words. “You sound so confident.” He doesn’t fully acknowledge Sho’s offer because it’s precisely what he has wanted all those years. He has always wanted Sho, with his anger and impatience and fierce temper. He spent most of his puberty with a hand around himself and pretending it was Sho’s, believing that in time, Sho would rule and he would be right beside him.  
  
Jun didn’t think he was that transparent, but on the day of Sho’s high school graduation— which was simultaneous with Jun’s graduation from training— Sho gave him a knife he commissioned someone to make before kissing him. It was sloppy, but they ended up tumbling together in Sho’s bedroom after that, the knife placed on Sho’s bedside table as they touched each other for the first time. Jun's memory is too keen; he can recall how Sho moaned his name in a way he never did before, how he rode Jun's hand and what Sho had looked like when he finally fell apart.  
  
Sho went to university after and Jun never really saw him again until it was time for him to leave for Moscow. In all the years, Sho was kept far from Tokyo, instead staying in Gunma to learn the family ways, to go back to their roots and traditions, the basics that his father would never teach him.  
  
Jun reaches up and wraps a hand around Sho’s throat, stroking Sho’s Adam’s apple with his thumb. “What makes you think you know exactly what I want?”  
  
“You came to find me,” Sho says silkily, wetting his lips, a deliberate temptation for Jun. “Do this for me, and I promise you, you can do anything you want to me.”  
  
It’s so easy to lean down and give in but Jun has been in Sho’s orbit for too long. Sho’s presence sucks him in, makes him forget the past three years of peace and silence he worked so hard for. He steps back and sees disappointment laced in Sho’s eyes.  
  
“You have my attention,” he murmurs, unable to deny anything. He clears his throat and says again, voice firmer this time, “You have all of my attention now.”  
  
“It’s a job,” Sho states, smirking. The same confident smirk that Jun remembers seeing the first time Sho did a successful headshot under his tutelage. “I’m offering you a job, and while you haven’t exactly said yes, you also didn’t say no. So let me ask just to make things official: do you want it?”  
  
Jun looks at Sho’s eyes and hears the real question.  
  
Don’t you want me as much as I want you?  
  
\--  
  
He returns to Asterisk to think. Kiko sends another bottle of The Balvenie to his room as he ponders, whiffs of smoke from his cigarette blurring his eyesight, the scent of nicotine flooding his nostrils. He quit as soon as he was out, and he wants to laugh at the implication of him smoking now.  
  
Say no, his mind screams. Go back to the suburbs, water your potted plants, do morning crunches, jog with Toma, joke with Aiba, have barbecue with your neighbors. He’d worked hard for that life, built it in three years. It took him a long while before he got used to no longer wielding a gun but it took him less time to go back to the idea of doing it all over again.  
  
He has had too much blood on his hands, but he feels no remorse for any of it. He was made to be a killer, and yet, he doesn’t want to go back to who he once was. The answer that rings inside him is no, that he should tell Sho to stay away and leave him alone, to honor his father’s agreement.  
  
But Sho is not his father.  
  
Sho is nothing like his father, and that’s exactly what makes him an effective leader. Sakurai Shun honored debts of gratitude and kept his word regardless of how much they would inconvenience him in the long run.  
  
Sho makes promises but only sees his end of the bargain as long as it benefits him. He’s clever and selfish, too calculating and perceptive. He's offering Jun an opportunity but what he really desires is to have Jun bleed for him, do all the dirty work in his stead, kill with his signature all over the place. Sho is unmerciful and manipulative and everything Jun wanted that he thought he had gotten over.  
  
Jun wants to go back to his home and his quiet, routinary life. But he also wants more.  
  
He wants Sho on his knees right before him, thanking him for his hard work with his tongue and his pretty mouth. Sho with his lips right on Jun’s ear, whispering how much he wants it, how he aches for it. Sho with his legs around Jun’s waist, his nails raking across the expanse of Jun’s back to the point of pain. Sho taking it over and over and letting Jun use him as much as he needs to.  
  
He can imagine it: Sho spread under him, face and neck flushed, nipples so hard that he yells whenever Jun tweaks them. Sho has never been flexible but Jun is quick to adapt. He can see Sho so open and so willing, begging for more, for him, for cock, for anything other than his fingers.  
  
Jun downs his entire glass of whiskey to forget just for a moment.  
  
\--  
  
“You have certainly mellowed down,” Sho says, and Jun ignores him and his happy tone. Sho’s only wearing a bathrobe made of expensive wool when he opened the door, and Jun did his best not to stare at his exposed collarbones when Sho stepped aside to welcome him in. “From what I remember, you always met fire with fire, always acting before thinking. Now you chose to think before accepting.”  
  
“I’m not accepting,” Jun denies, hating that Sho speaks like he knows him. Sho doesn’t. He’s not the Jun of three years ago.  
  
Sho tilts his head. “Oh? So you’re just here to fuck, then? Very well. You’ll come around. Nino said you would and I’m with him.”  
  
“Do you fuck everyone under your employment?” Jun asks. He won’t be surprised if Sho does. There’s something about the way Sho says Nino’s name that makes Jun wonder.  
  
“You weren’t around,” Sho says as an answer, voice dropping in pitch. “You’re not the only one who kept yourself busy just to forget.”  
  
“It was one night,” Jun reminds him, the images of Sho panting hard against him flooding his mind. “Nothing more.”  
  
Sho smiles, moving in careful strides to stand in his space. Jun can smell his aftershave. “And what’s this? Just a night, nothing more? Don’t pretend you don’t want this. You can assure yourself that you’ve moved on, surround yourself with imported plants and cooking magazines, but you have to do better if you think you can keep it hidden how much you’ve wanted this from me.”  
  
Sho presses close, his lips touching Jun’s ear. “I’ve missed you, Jun. I know what I want and this is me asking for it.”  
  
Jun grabs a handful of Sho’s hair forcefully and brings their mouths together. Sho makes a pleased noise, shifting to grab on to Jun’s shoulders and Jun can feel Sho’s hardness under the robe. He backs Sho towards the bed, muffles his surprised groans with his mouth.  
  
Sho’s hands are already slipping inside his shirt, tracing his ribs and making him squirm. Jun bites on Sho’s bottom lip before pulling away, hands untying Sho’s robe to reveal more skin.  
  
“Jun,” Sho breathes, and as a response, Jun shoves him back on the bed before descending on him, nipping his way down from the hollow of Sho’s throat down to his navel.  
  
“I miss your piercing,” Jun whispers, licking at the heated skin.  
  
Above him, Sho laughs. “Tried to put it back but it hurt.”  
  
Jun bites at the soft flesh, seeing the marks left by the old jewelry. “Surely you’ve dealt with worse pain.”  
  
Sho’s fingers are reaching for the edges of his shirt and Jun obliges to remove it. He doesn’t miss Sho’s sharp intake of breath as well as Sho’s satisfied smile. “Three long years and this is what you worked on?” Sho asks, sounding impressed.  
  
He swats at Sho’s thighs, gesturing to the center of the bed with his chin. Sho doesn’t need more prompting, going on all fours before collapsing back on the mattress, his robe open and revealing the curve of his hard cock. Jun doesn’t waste time, unzipping his jeans and joining Sho on the bed, and Sho cranes his neck to meet him in a kiss.  
  
Sho shoves a tube of lube in his hands, and Jun pulls away to look at him, to appreciate the sight of him wanting.  
  
“I’m going to fuck you until I’m sure you can’t walk,” he promises, seeing in his periphery how Sho’s cock twitches in excitement. “The next time you let someone else fuck you, you’re going to remember this. You will remember me and you will remember how good I felt, that no one else can fill you up like I can. I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to thank me as you beg for more.”  
  
Sho visibly shivers, his eyes so dark that Jun can see himself in them. He breathes one word that makes Jun’s blood boil, the only one he has imagined Sho saying countless times as he jerked himself off in the shower and in his bed throughout his teenage years.  
  
“Please.”  
  
\--  
  
He has one of Sho’s legs on his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist as he resumes his slow thrusting, ignoring Sho’s gasps and the way he claws at the sheets around them.  
  
From this angle Jun can see Sho’s neck, can admire the way his veins pop as he desperately attempts to regulate his breathing each time Jun slides home. Jun takes his time, wanting to see Sho frustrated and panting. He would drag this out if he has to, fuck Sho until Sho downright begs, fuck him repeatedly until he screams.  
  
One of Sho’s hands travels down to fist at his own cock but Jun stops him, slapping the hand away. “I didn’t say you can do that,” he breathes huskily, punctuating it with a thrust that makes Sho inhale sharply through his nose.  
  
“Jun,” Sho whines, low and almost convincingly desperate, but there’s a hint of amusement in it, like Sho’s truly happy that he’s being treated like this, as if he’s extremely pleased that Jun knows exactly how to handle him.  
  
Jun shifts, experimenting with different angles and various paces, enjoying the appreciative noises he can elicit from Sho. He grabs Sho’s leg that’s hooked around his hip and dislodges it, lifting it just a little so he can see how his cock moves in and out of Sho’s ass. Sho moans, purposefully draggy and filthy, canting his hips up to take more of Jun and Jun wants to stuff him with his cock again and again, until Sho’s utterly wrecked.  
  
He pulls out in one smooth move, not paying any mind to Sho crying out. He crawls to the bed and kneels, hitting the sides of Sho’s thighs with the back of his hand to get him to move. “Kneel,” Jun orders, and pleasure runs down his spine when Sho obeys without complaint.  
  
Jun moves to kneel behind him, aligning his cock with Sho’s hole. He pushes Sho down to his hands and knees so he can thrust properly, and once fully sheathed inside, he reaches down to grab Sho’s arm and pull his body back up, pressing his chest to Sho’s back.  
  
Doing so sends him deeper and Sho outright gasps, eventually biting his lip as he clenches so deliciously around Jun. Jun snaps his hips without warning and Sho nearly sobs, eyes shut and throat bared.  
  
Jun buries his face in the junction between Sho’s neck and shoulder, nipping and sucking there. He has one arm looped around Sho’s waist, using it as leverage to keep Sho in place as he fucks into him, harder and faster until all Sho can do is hold on to his arm and keep his head in place with the other.  
  
“Fuck,” Sho grunts, meeting Jun thrust for thrust, sinking repeatedly on Jun’s thick cock. Jun sucks at Sho’s neck as he ups his pace, his hips slamming against Sho’s ass, obscene sounds mixed with Sho’s noises of pleasure filling the room.  
  
“Is this what you want? To be fucked like this?” Jun manages to ask. He slows down but snaps his hips just as hard, observing how Sho’s body arches. “What do you want?”  
  
“More,” Sho answers shakily. Jun bites down on his shoulder, hard enough for him to let out a breath. He has Sho so keen and desperate in his arms and he wants to savor every second of it. “More, Jun.”  
  
Jun reaches for Sho’s cock with his other hand, squeezing the base as he drives in harder, basking in Sho’s mewls and whimpers. “Fuck me,” Sho is saying repeatedly, each time Jun thrusts back in. “Fuck me, Jun. Don’t stop.”  
  
Jun lets his hand slide down Sho’s length, pumping it in the way he remembers Sho loves. Sho’s practically riding him and leaning his weight against him, and Jun has to crane his neck to whisper in Sho’s ear for him to open his eyes.  
  
He unhands Sho’s dick before commanding, “Lick,” and Sho’s too eager, the very definition of submission when he sticks his tongue out and licks long lines over Jun’s palm, ascertaining he’s sufficiently wet. Jun wraps his hand on Sho’s shaft again, stroking fast in time with his thrusts.  
  
He pulls Sho’s body back as he whispers in Sho’s ear how much he has wanted this, admitting that he has long dreamt of fucking Sho senseless, beginning from the time they first put a gun in his hand and made him swear an oath to protect all the members of the family.  
  
Jun didn't give a flying fuck if any of the Sakurais die because of some faction or feud, but when they used Sho’s name and told him he would also be Jun’s responsibility, he didn’t hesitate. He tells Sho— now that he has Sho in his arms, begging for his cock and for him— that Sho’s right where he has always wanted him to be and Sho shudders, a full body tremor that Jun can feel under his lips as he presses kisses down Sho’s neck.  
  
“Come for me, Sho,” he demands, hand moving quickly around Sho’s swollen cock. “Let me know how much you want this.”  
  
Sho clenches around him and he hisses, his cock enveloped in tight heat as Sho trembles, coming in hot, quick bursts that dirty his chest and Jun’s hand as well as the sheets under them. Sho’s come is pearlescent against Jun’s skin and before he can consider it, he lifts his knuckles to Sho’s mouth.  
  
He doesn’t need to ask; Sho darts out his tongue to lick Jun clean, lapping up all traces of his release and Jun can’t recall a time he has been so aroused.  
  
He shoves Sho down and pounds into him with all he’s got, holding on to Sho’s ass cheeks and kneading them appreciatively. Sho resorted to balancing himself on his forearms, breathing raggedly as Jun chases after his own pleasure, using Sho’s body as he sees fit.  
  
The insides of his thighs are tingling and he’s so close he can practically feel the tiny tendrils of sublime orgasm, but what makes him truly come is the sound of Sho’s husky and spent voice managing a tiny whisper amidst all of his contented noises.  
  
“Thank you,” Sho breathes. Jun swears in response, fucks into him once, twice in such brutal force that Sho nearly falls over as Jun finally lets go.  
  
\--  
  
“So,” Sho says later, right in the middle of the bed. He has bruises all over his body, undeniable traces that show where Jun has been. He looks completely debauched and filthy, and Jun wishes he can get it up again so he can fuck Sho’s mouth this time.  
  
“So,” Jun mimics, scrunching his nose when he realizes how badly he needs a shower.  
  
Sho turns to look at him. Jun keeps his eyes on the ceiling instead. He smells like Sho and sweat and sex, but Sho definitely smells worse than him. “Was that your way of saying yes or do you still have to think about it?”  
  
“I need a better offer,” is what Jun decides on after a couple of seconds thinking. He’s stalling and they both know it. Now that Jun has gotten a taste, sampled for himself what’s it like to be able to do anything to Sho, the craving sets in.  
  
Sho must have known all along how it’s going to affect him but Jun can see he’s not the only one addicted to this arrangement.  
  
Sho grips his chin, tipping it sideways for their eyes to meet. “Say yes,” Sho whispers, his forefinger tracing the marks around Jun’s lips. “You can have me. You will have me, again and again for as long as you want, for as much as you want. Just say yes and it will all be yours. Anything you want, you can have. Work for me, do as I say and I will do the same. Say yes.”  
  
The word isn’t too far from Jun’s lips, already lying at the tip of his tongue. He searches Sho’s eyes for a hint of dishonesty but finds nothing, only savage wanting and barely controlled lust despite what they just did. He wants this as much as Jun does and Jun has never been good at saying no to Sho. Ever since he decided to go to Asterisk, he knew he was dead-set on one answer.  
  
“Yes,” he finally says, and Sho sports a triumphant grin before leaning in, already rewarding his cooperation with his tongue.


End file.
